


Number One

by jayandalltheotherstars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Appearance of various Griffyndors, But not exactly, Draco's thoughts, F/M, POV Second Person, Ronald Weasley is the wise one, kind of one sided love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayandalltheotherstars/pseuds/jayandalltheotherstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's watching how his girlfriend is interacting with her best friend, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it a bit. Some Harmony mixed up with a Dramione.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Numeri Uno](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/203839) by jaybree. 



**Number One**

  
"What a place!" you moan while you leave the room, headed outside. Your urgent need of tobacco has won over the reproaching attitude from Hermione.

  
With a flick of the wand you light the cigar you were turning between your fingers just a couple of minutes ago. Your old self, who occasionally remembers to kick inside your mind, is laughing so hard behind your back: Draco Malfoy, trapped in a – _Muggle’s_ – restaurant, between an indefinite number of freaks and _Gryffindors_ , hides from the look of fire of his - _Mudblood_ -  girlfriend because he smokes – _Muggle’s_ \- cigars.

_Laugh, Draco, laugh._

You pull the first puff of cigar and you think that is not fucking true that smoking relaxes. Reluctantly you find yourself looking inside the room through the open door: Finnegan is still staring at Brown’s cleavage, who keeps on chatting with Lovegood; nothing ensures neither you nor her interlocutor that Loony is listening. 

Potter whispers something in Hermione’s ear, she looks at you, you intercept her dark eyes: she’s not happy with your last outburst, you shrug your shoulders. You’re still angry, you can’t do much about that either. Then she goes back to Saint Potter, _again_. 

You draw the smoke with greed, feeling the knuckles of your left hand shaking dangerously: the hand of your girlfriend is conveniently placed on the knee of another man - of your eternal rival. It is an act of intimacy, of complicity. A public displays of affection that she refuses to grant _to you_. But everything is allowed to Saint Potter.

"You better let it go."

You turn shuttering, ready to throw a tight fist to anyone who is intruding into your anger.  _Muggle._ _Definitely, too Muggle._

"What do you want, Weasley?"  You spit, despising more than ever Weasel’s knowing expression.

"Cigarette," he says, pulling it out from a shirt pocket. You shrug with affected nonchalance. Your eyes return, with almost their our willingness, to look inside the restaurant: _they are_ still talking earnestly to each other - he looks worried, she reassures him. And then they laugh. You hate it when they laugh _together_.  
Wealsey shakes his head: "You know what I think, Malfoy?"

"As if I wanted to know," you mutter, but you know he will continue with his not wanted opinion.

"I think you're really in love this time."  
You almost miss the cigar from your fingers: since when Ronald Weasley is so sure about his ideas on other people's business? Your own business, for Merlin’s sake! "It's so easy to fall for her, right? We are her angry and frightened puppies: she takes care of us, reassures us, cuddles us, protects us. " You don’t know where he’s heading but you let him continue: he wants to blabber, just keep going on.

_And yet, it is true._ _  
_

"But you see, no matter how much she loves you now - and though it costs me to admit it, I think she really loves you - in the life of Hermione Granger, there is only a number one. Number two? Many  and well-pampered, but number one: just him. Trust me, I know. "

The burning between your index and middle finger awakes you from the series of thoughts that are tormenting your mind: you’d like to carry on with the mask of anger that you have decided to wear tonight, but tears - _fucking tears_ \- pluck your eyes. You hold them back. Weasley's words are just another confirmation of an old consciousness.

Spectators. You are just some random onlookers, here's what you are. Only two spectators of something that you cannot fully understand.

"The first place has always been his."  
Hermione's hand is now playing jokingly with the fingers of his best friend who’s sitting beside her. And then they laugh again, _together_ : a knowing smile, private and secret. 

A smile from which everyone is excluded: even you.

**Author's Note:**

> When I write in my first language - italian - I totally 'dig' writing in the second person POV because it flows so effortlessly. In English? Just not the same effect. Still, I'll keep on trying.  
> This little plot bunny was written a long time ago, I wanted to write a Dramione for a friend but, as you can see, I really couldn't...


End file.
